


Better with Age

by Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me



Series: Copious Cockles [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Angst and Humor, Awesome Misha, Awkward Dates, Bisexuality, Cockles, Conventions, Cute Kids, Established Jensen Ackles/Misha Collins, F/M, Family, Fans, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, On Set, POV Jensen, POV Misha, Past Relationship(s), Pranks and Practical Jokes, Sexual Humor, Shy Jensen Ackles, Twitter, Wives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 04:26:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3837058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me/pseuds/Castiel_Left_His_Mark_On_Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has good reason to be paranoid - even if Misha is relaxed about the idea of the world knowing about them, Jensen sure isn't. Life can already be tough in the public eye. Why would they want to make it harder by exposing all this? Yet, when it comes down to it, Jensen might not really have much say in the matter.<br/><a href="http://s288.photobucket.com/user/arynnshaws/media/Mobile%20Uploads/2015-04-29%2016.05.59_zpslwetynak.png.html"></a><img/><br/>Art by the lovely <a href="http://kawasemichan.tumblr.com">kawasemichan</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Better with Age

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt request from mnwood. This is in NO WAY related to ["The Plot"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2795588/chapters/6274970)

 

          “So, when _did_ you realize it?”

          “I don’t know, man. Why does it matter?”

          Misha adjusts himself beside Jensen, taking extra care to keep his hand pressed into the small of the man’s back—rubbing soft circles into the freckled skin. “I suppose, I just didn’t expect this out of you. You didn’t strike me as the type.”

          “The type to wanna fuck guys?” Jensen hisses, trying to play up his offense but failing miserably as soon as he sees his new friend isn’t buying it.

          “ _Basically_.” Misha smiles, still watching his own hand. He’s in disbelief that it ended up _here_ tonight. He thought it would be holding a slice of pizza or a beer and eventually, the TV remote. Not his _co-star._ Not like _this_. “I mean, I’ve seen the pictures of your girlfriend. You two are about as _all-American_ as they come. I guess, _this_ was a curve ball.”

          “Well, I like to be unpredictable” Jensen smirks, but the look Misha gives him easily cracks his usually cocky exterior.

          “I don’t think you _try to be_ unpredictable—I think you just _are._ I think I’m going to have a good time getting to know you, Jensen Ackles.”

          Green eyes slowly drag back to the fawning blues—and Misha recognizes the worry in them instantly. “What’s the matter?”

          “Man … like you said, I _do_ have a girlfriend, and I—”

          “And I have a wife.”

          Jensen tenses up with the blunt reminder. “Yeah, but according to you, you guys have some kind of _open-thing_ going on.”

          Misha finally moves his hand away, rolling over and scooting up the bed until he’s sitting with his back against the headboard. Jensen quickly slips around to match him and soon, the air feels tight with their new, rigid displays. “So, does your girlfriend not know about this then—about you? That you’re bi?”

          He shudders with the word—labels like _that_ tend to get people in trouble in this line of work. He tries not to think about it too much as he sneaks a peek back to this strange man who he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about since he had to stab him on set. “No, she knows. She’s known since _day one_. I wasn’t going to bullshit her or anything” Jensen says matter-of-factly. He turns to stare out towards the rest of his small room, thinking about the first and last time Danneel was here. _That was a fun night too._ “I mean, we haven’t made anything _official_ yet—like, not verbally anyway.” He puts his hands together across his bare stomach and starts to wring his fingers nervously. “I don’t know though, I _really_ like her … and I am just sort of realizing that something like _this_ might fuck it up.”

          Misha tries not to smile but he does anyway, looking down at himself and then to the man beside him, both stark naked and having such a serious conversation—it seems so strangely normal. He thinks again to when he first met the Texas-boy … all sports talk and gruff—he was _so_ not expecting Jensen to be like _this_. “Well, if you haven’t discussed being exclusive and if she knows that you’re bisexual, I don’t see how she could be too upset.”

          “You never know” Jensen finally spits, sounding much tougher than he looks.

          “You’re right.” Misha glances over the young man one more time, feeling a little knot form in his stomach with the realization that this might be the last chance he really gets to see him this way. “How about I go ahead and go, and you give your girl a call and talk this out. I have a feeling she’ll be fine, but you should do it anyway. You’ll feel better once you do.”

          Jensen looks up from the distance as Misha pulls himself off the bed, smiling at the man’s consideration. “You really don’t mind? Like, isn’t that kind of a _dick-move_ if I make you leave after all this?” He gestures towards his own waist and then peers back up to see a wide grin he wasn’t expecting.

          “Jensen, when you called me tonight and asked me to come back to the set, I wasn’t thinking anything even _close_ to this was in store. I thought you and Jared were just going to congratulate me on booking more episodes or something. I wasn’t expecting it to be just _you_ and _me_ —and I _really_ wasn’t expecting you to get right to the point and ask me out on a _date_ … and I sure as hell wasn’t expecting it all to lead _here_.” He licks his lips a little as he drags his eyes over Jensen’s body once more. “You have been anything but ‘a dick’ to me … w _ell_ …” he grins wickedly and Jensen laughs, vibrating the headboard behind him. Misha continues. “So, as far as I see it, I am going home one happy guy.”

          The dark, messy headed man smiles again before turning to pick up his boxers and pants, pulling them over himself and causing Jensen to frown a little. Once Misha is clothed, Jensen finally relents and slides out of the bed too—grabbing some sweats out of his dresser drawer and pulling them on. In another moment, he’s walking towards his friend—hands gliding over sharp hips, eventually grabbing them and yanking them in for a soft, slow kiss. They both stay quiet and hold onto _this_ —filing away the memory just in case it will be all they have.

          “Thanks, Mish” Jensen whispers, pressing his forehead against his friend’s.

          Misha pulls away and stares at him, eyes narrowing as his chin cocks out to the side.

          Jensen tilts his head back as well, shrouding himself in the same, puzzled expression that Misha is wearing. “What?”

          “You called me _Mish._ ”

          “Oh …” Jensen looks down at their feet, a slight blush rushing his skin. “Sorry, do you not want me to call you that? It just kinda came out.”

          Misha smiles and leans back in to kiss the man’s cheek. “No, it’s okay. Just … not many people call me that, _but_ —it sounds good coming from you.”

\--Eight Years Later—

           Jensen strolls into the kitchen and smacks Misha hard on the ass.

           “Ow! _Jesus Christ!_ What the hell was that for?”

           He was already walking away when he turns around to answer the man, phone still pressed to his ear. “That was from Danneel. I told her you were over here so she said she wanted me give you a _unique hello_ … it was her idea.” He quiets a moment and looks at the ground, listening to the voice traveling through the phone. He grins wider after another few seconds and looks back at Misha “She said she’s _sure_ you deserved it.”

           “Oh, well … tell her _thank you,_ but I actually _didn’t_ deserve her husband’s abuse for once!”

           Jensen scrunches up his face at him before turning his attention back towards the conversation with his wife. “No, babe … he said he didn’t deserve it and now he’s all pissy.”

           Misha shoots him an annoyed glare, but finally rolls his eyes back to the eggs he’s frying for their breakfast.

           “Oh! _You’re right!”_ Jensen puts his hand over his cell, pulling it away from his ear and glares at the back of his friend’s head. “Mish, she wanted me to remind you of the last time we were at _your_ place … and how you passed out before you could get me off—you deserved it because of _that_.”

           Misha cranes his head back over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. “I _highly_ doubt she said _that_.”

           Jensen quickly stitches on his _you-wanna-bet_ expression, shuffling over to thrust the phone in Misha’s face. “Ask her yourself!”

           He takes the phone and trades the smirking-man for the spatula he’s been using for the eggs. Jensen grabs it and scoots in closer, pushing Misha away from the stove with a bump of his hip. The contact makes him grin despite his slight annoyance—he’s hadn’t even had his coffee yet. _It’s too early for this._ “Hi, Dani.”

           “Are you taking good care of our boy?”

           Misha rolls his eyes, eventually letting them land on the broad back of the man they both adore. “I don’t know _why_ you ask that. _I’m_ the one in need of caretaking—especially since you two have found it fun to team up against me.” He listens to the pleasant, little giggle that flutters over the phone—and his grin widens. _She‘s too, damn cute._

           “I’m sorry, hon. _You’re right._ How about _we_ plan something, just _you and me_ —and we can see just how crazy we can make _him_ for a change?”

           He knows that it probably won’t work because Jensen is too good at being immovable; but maybe with the help of the man’s wife—he might actually get him to crack. “That sounds good to me. We’ll have to talk at some point when he’s not around though.” Misha glances over just in time to see Jensen’s ears perk up.

           “Are you two conspiring now?” Jensen asks, turning away from the stove.

           Misha shrugs with a sly beam.

           “That’s it, give me back the phone!”

           “No! I am finally getting an accomplice! You’re not going to take her away from me now!”

           Jensen charges at him, snapping the spatula through the air, making it crack against Misha’s hip.

           “ _Ouch_! Fuck, that stings! Stop it, Jen!” Another whack of the spatula sends Misha turning to run down the hall. “Dani! Your husband is attacking me!” The only response he gets is some snorting laughter—quickly followed by another spatula-attack across his ass. “Jensen! _Stop it!_ Sto—” He made it into the bedroom but Jensen is right behind, lunging at his back and tackling him to the mattress. The phone goes flying out of his hand.

           “Oh, nice going! Now my phone is probably busted!” Jensen groans, sitting himself across his friend’s back and smooshing him further into the sheets. He chuckles as he tries to make out Misha’s muffled words. “ _What was that?_ Was that an _apology_?”

           Misha finally manages to pull up his head and crane it to the side to glare at the man pinning him. “Apologize for _what_?” he growls, bucking a bit to knock Jensen off—but the man is too heavy.

           “For possibly busting my phone!”

           “If your phone is broken, it’s _your_ fault! I certainly didn’t ask for you to attack me with kitchen utensils!”

           Jensen rolls his eyes and finally lifts himself off of the man below him, and Misha quickly wriggles away, huffing in aggravation and rubbing his reddened backside as he throws more daggers to his right. Jensen bites his lip, trying not to giggle. “Well, you were trying to plot something with my wife!”

           “Oh, _yes, how dare I!_ Why would I _ever_ try to plot something against such a saint as yourself?”

           Jensen finally bends down and kisses Misha on the forehead. “I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder why I stick around … _you know,_ since you all are so mean to me.” He plays up his hurt and makes his eyes widen and shake—calling out for pity.” I guess it _is_ because I’m so saintly.”

           Misha turns up the volume on his sarcasm. “That _must_ be it.” He laughs and rolls to his back, wincing at the little pinches of his nerves from the brutality he just endured.

           Jensen is soon straddling him once more—softer than before, letting caring hands slide over his friend’s shoulders, and loving fingers press into Misha’s skin to work away all the tension. Kind lips finally meet his and all the discomfort and pinprick pains dissolve with the touch. Jensen moves his body down, lying it flat across his friend’s, letting their weight mix and pull together—his palms floating up to cup Misha’s jaw. He deepens the kiss and soon they’re both gone, lost in that same, chilling rush that overtook them years ago. They stay there too long, mussing up the sheets and each other’s hair—neither noticing the smell of smoke and burning eggs—and the faint sound of Danneel’s voice chirping through Jensen’s phone, now settled behind the nightstand.  

***

           “Remember to dress _nice_.”

           “I always dress nice, what are you talking about?” Jensen sounds much more offended than any one person should be with such a comment.

           Misha turns to glare at him, his cheeks cracking with a laugh. “Okay, _Mr. GQ._ I mean _nice-nice_. This dinner is slightly more special than usual.” He turns back to the mirror to adjust his tie. Soon, two hands are snaking around him, taking over the job.

           “Why is _tonight_ special?” Jensen whispers into Misha’s ear—low and breathy, riddled with implication.

           Misha shoves him back with a playful bump of his shoulder. “Because it just _is_ , alright? So, go put on something that would make fan girls _die_ and hurry back out here.” He tries to avoid the squinted, inquisitive greens that are peering at him through the mirror.

           “Seriously, what’s going on with you? You’ve been fidgety all day.”

           In a forced huff, Misha swivels around to face the man behind him. He knew he’d have to come clean eventually—he just thought they’d be sitting down at a nice table with some wine warming their bellies, making the words sound less lame. “ _Today_ is a special.”

           “How so?”

           “Well … it was nine years ago today that you called me and ended up asking me out on our first date.”

           Jensen scrunches his brow together as he drops his chin to his chest. “ _What_? You remember what day that was?”

           Misha laughs, embarrassedly. “Well, _no_ … but I just happened to stumble across the old e-mail that said I was getting more episodes, and I looked at the date and I knew it was about a month after that that you asked me out. So, I did the very simple math and realized that today would be our _anniversary_ , so to speak.”

           His hands glide up to his hips and Jensen adopts a slightly uncomfortable stance. “Okay … well, I mean …” he clears his throat, glancing away from Misha’s blushing face. “Aren’t anniversaries reserved more for people who have been involved in something more _continuous_? We’ve sorta been off and on over the years.” He tries to soften his voice as he sees Misha’s expression change—sagging with the disappointment that Jensen is ruining this. “Like … when Vicki was pregnant with West, I barely saw you.  Same with when we were having JJ—I mean, it’s sweet, man, but isn’t it a little _much_?”

           Misha moves in closer, finally sighing and forgetting his apprehension about all this. “ _Look_ , I know you hate really having to say it out loud, but you care about me and _you know_ I care about you; and even though we both have wives and kids … and other _lives_ apart from all this—we have always managed to come back and find comfort right _here_ , just you and me.” He wraps his arms around Jensen’s middle and hugs him to his chest, brushing his lips against the man’s stubbled chin. “I don’t know—just, when I saw that e-mail and realized how much time has passed and how _happy_ I am with everything I have, and how _lucky_ we are with how all this has turned out … I just got a little sentimental, and I wanted to celebrate.” He sighs, stepping back as Jensen still refuses to lean into him. “Besides, it’s not like I was planning to drop a ring in your champagne glass or anything. I just wanted it all to be slightly more intimate—not as _rushed_ as we usually have to be …but if you don’t want to do that, I’m not going to make you.” Misha turns back around and starts undoing the tie that Jensen had just perfected for him.

           Guilt coats his body like sap on bark. Jensen’s arms quickly find their way back over Misha’s shoulders to fix his tie once more. “I want to do that—a more intimate dinner sounds great, Mish … I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m being all weird about it.”

          Just as he finishes with the tie, Misha is whipping around within Jensen’s arms, facing him and laying a playful kiss on his lips. “Because you wouldn’t be _you_ if you didn’t worry yourself over pointless things.”

          “ _True_. And where would we be if I didn’t worry and give you someone to reassure?”

          “Well, we wouldn’t have the on-screen chemistry that we do, that’s for certain.”

          “Yeah, and then _you_ probably wouldn’t still have a spot on the show if that was the case.”

          “You wouldn’t even _have_ a show if that was the case!”  
           Jensen smirks. “Yeah, yeah … well, I guess it’s really good I worry then.”

          “ _Really good_ , indeed.”

***

           “You seriously couldn’t have picked a _more_ brightly lit restaurant” Jensen grumbles, flicking his eyes to their corners, looking at all the visible faces, seemingly staring at them.

           “It’s not _that_ bright, and again—you’re just being paranoid! You’re worrying for no reason, Jensen.”

           “We’re going to get recognized.”

           “Yes, _maybe_ … as two co-stars going out to eat … like we’ve done a _hundred_ times. You never cared then.”

           “Well, you weren’t trying to make things all _special_ then!” Jensen hisses, lifting his menu to cover his face.

           Misha reaches out to push it down. “You look like the god damn Pink Panther! Would you just relax?”

           Jensen only glares at him before returning to his hiding place of overpriced appetizers.

           Blue eyes rock in his direction, quickly rolling so hard, they might as well start a band. “Just because I said this evening is _special_ , doesn’t mean everyone in the world now knows about it. I didn’t put it on my twitter or anything.”

           The menu lowers a moment. “You certainly think a lot of your own popularity.”

           “ _Shut up_ , you know what I mean, Jen. We are not doing anything we normally wouldn’t be doing in public. Just because you and I both know we are celebrating something, does not mean it’s being broadcasted to everyone else. So, just _relax_ and figure out what you want to eat!” Misha’s voice is low and rumbles the table beneath Jensen’s elbows.

           He takes a deep breath and tries to rationalize his thoughts. Misha is right after all, they are not doing anything abnormal and this doesn’t have to be weird if he doesn’t make it weird. He needs to chill out—he needs to breathe. “ _Fine_ … just, don’t play footsie with me or anything.”

           “Yes, because I do that _so_ often … I’m not Jared.”

           Jensen can’t help but smile. “Thank god. If _he_ played footsie with me, I’d probably end up like a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe.”

           “Speaking from experience, _yes_ … you would be” Misha laughs, letting the kindness seep back into his eyes. A quiet covers the table separating them, getting topped by the low murmur of voices and clanking dishes from about the restaurant.

           “Sorry, Mish.”

           “It’s alright. I just don’t know why you’re so tense about this all of a sudden. It’s like, as soon as I said I wanted to focus a bit more on _us_ , you flipped out.”

           Jensen sets down the menu and slides it to the side of the table, already forgetting what he had decided to order. _This_ was more important. “It’s not that … the ‘you and me’ thing, anyway. I guess, just when you said _how long_ it’s been, I realized just how little I thought about it. I mean—I’ve been pretty relaxed about all this lately.” He dances his finger back and forth between them. “I mean, I could have slipped up any number of times and let the cat out of the bag about us, but … _I don’t know_ , I guess I’ve been lucky … _we’ve_ been lucky.” He sighs and lifts up his palms to give his heavy, worry-filled head someplace to lie. “I don’t know … _nine years_ , man. That’s a long time to keep a secret.”

           “It is” Misha’s voice ineffectively restrains a laugh.

          Jensen tilts his head up to eye him. “What?”

          “Well, I mean … would it really be that bad if the secret got out?”

          His hands drop back to the table with a loud _thump._ “Uh, _yeah._ ”

          “Why?”

          “Seriously, man? You know why! My wife, _your_ wife … our kids, our careers, our friends.”

          Misha’s humor falls as an unimpressed glare washes over his countenance.

          “What?”

          “Those are _bullshit_ reasons, and you know it.”

          “How so?”

          Misha huffs haughtily. “Well, let’s see. _First_ , both our wives know about us and have since the beginning, and they are _fine_ with it … they are even thankful for it at times because it gets us ‘out of their hair’— _Vicki’s_ words, _not mine._ Our kids are being raised to accept all sorts of lifestyles—we _both_ feel that’s a really important life lesson, so if we do even a _half way_ decent job, they shouldn’t find it all that weird once they’re old enough to understand. And our careers have only been _heightened_ by the rumors that you and I are knocking boots between takes; so I _highly_ doubt if the fans found that it’s _true_ , that they would turn against us. And the ones who wouldn’t approve would probably leave the fandom eventually anyway—we don’t necessarily attract _the narrow minded._ And our friends? Seriously, the ones who don’t already know about you and me … well, _basically_ … we choose our friends carefully, Jensen. I doubt either of us would want to be close to people who would leave just based on something like _who_ we choose to sleep with, especially when they know about the understanding we have with our families.” Misha huffs and nods with the end of his rant, picking up his wine to christen the point that he had just so aptly made.

          “You done?”

          The wine catches in his throat. “ _Um_ , yes.”

          “That is not what I meant when I said all that.”

          Misha falters a moment, swallowing the last, oaky drops that still linger on his tongue. “Okay, so what _did_ you mean then?”

          Jensen sighs, leaning in and lowering his voice. “What kind of backlash will our wives have to endure if we come out? Think about the questions they’ll get. Is that fair? Is that fair to put them through that?” He pauses a moment and gains a bit of selfish joy as Misha’s face contorts with understanding. “And when West and Maison get a little older and go to school … do you really want them coming home, crying because their friends are probing them with questions about their daddy _cheating_ on their mom? I know I don’t want that for JJ. _We_ may raise them right, but it doesn’t mean other kids have been raised the same way.” He grunts and falls back against the cushion of the booth. “And our careers, _well_ … Supernatural isn’t going to last forever, man. And _yeah_ , it might get higher ratings with every episode that you and I have epic eye-fucks, but not every show will be like that. How will our careers get skewered if you and I are suddenly pegged for _gay_ actors? We both have friends who have fallen into that wormhole. _Good_ , _talented_ people who have now been blacklisted because they did one part, or decided to love someone who wasn’t ‘expected’ and suddenly, their careers are in the crapper.”

          Misha nods, thinking about the people he’s known who are struggling in the business. It’s hard, it’s _very_ hard. “I see your point.”

          Jensen hears him but can’t slow down the ball that he already kicked into a fierce roll. “And our friends certainly don’t need _us_ to be the subject of _every_ conversation they have. It’s not a fun place to be, man. I’m not going to put them through that.”

          “That was a long time ago, Jensen … things have changed since then. Not as much as I would like, _obviously_ , but they have changed.”

          Jensen pauses and stares at Misha, surprised that the man knew _exactly_ who he was thinking about and why it irked him so much. “Exactly, they _haven’t_ changed _enough_.”

          “You couldn’t have done anything for him. It wasn’t your fault.”

          “I certainly didn’t help. When people started asking me about him, I just avoided the subject. I could have at least said _something_ , he was still my friend; but that probably wouldn’t have helped either. It’s a shitty position to be in.”

          Misha sighs and thinks back over all the stories Jensen had told him about his past relationships—with both men and women. More _women_ than men, obviously; and that was mainly due to Jason Tempest. He was Jensen’s first, real queer relationship and even though it was brief, it impacted him a great deal. “He didn’t deserve the flack he got, and he only got it because he was in _this_ business and happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

          “Underneath a set director in the middle of a set— _yeah_ , I’ll say that’s the wrong place and definitely the wrong, damn time.”

          “It was a risky move for both of them, but they really didn’t deserve to lose their jobs over it and get their names smeared. But that was _fifteen years_ ago, Jensen. It doesn’t mean it’ll happen to us. Plus … we’re not going mount each other in the middle of set.”

          Jensen gives a halfhearted smile. “I just feel bad, for him. He _loved_ what he did, and I was always telling him to be careful, not to push it. I never let him get us into anything crazy when he and I were together, but _then_ … as soon as we were over, he went and did something crazy anyway.” He tosses up his hand, turning his head to look out the window and into the soft, fuzzy light of the night. “He could have been really big, you know. He was on his way to being an _awesome_ producer.” Jensen loses himself in the memories of Jason’s brown, mischievous eyes and the mop of shaggy hair he just _loved_ to push out of his kind face. “I think he’s doing architecture or something now.”

          “Well, _see_ … his life isn’t ruined. It’s just different.”

          “It’s not what he loved.”

          “Maybe not.” Misha starts to reach out to touch Jensen’s hand but quickly retracts, remembering what this is all about in the first place. “But do you know if he’s with _someone_ he loves?”

          Jensen tosses him a glance, knowing that there’s a point that’s about to be made. “He sent me his wedding invitation … that was about five years back. It was going to be in Maine, or wherever they had just legalized gay-marriage. He looked really happy in the picture.”

          Misha smiles. “Loves change, Jensen. _Life_ changes—it _has_ to. Curveballs are coming one way or the other, but every now and then, we get the chance to put on a glove and get into the proper stance. We kind of have that opportunity here.”

          Jensen laughs, genuine and full of ease—and slightly annoyed since, _yet again_ , Misha has turned around his mood completely. He was all geared up to be cranky the rest of the night, but it looks like that’s _just_ not going to happen. “You are very adorable when you make sport analogies.”

          “I’m adorable all the time, Jensen. Just _more so_ during the times like these.”

***

           The park is quiet and the street lights are dim. The moon is bright but there is a steady stream of clouds grazing its face, making it blink and shutter against the earth. The wind picks up and tapers at random, making Misha’s hair flutter against his forehead, and even though it doesn’t need it—Jensen brushes it aside. No one is around, accept maybe an owl and some crickets … creatures that will only sing, and ask “who?” if ever confronted with the question of who they saw kissing in the park on this cool, October night. _They are safe._ Jensen is safe—all his worries carry away on the next, gentle gust that curls across their bodies. The clouds pull back. Misha’s eyes shine. Jensen’s heart stops.

_Today is special._

 

           “Oh my god! Oh my god! _Cockles_!”

           The young woman’s voice screeches through the night, silencing the crickets and making the owl’s question, moot. Jensen and Misha turn to see her, blonde hair blowing in her face—a giant grin, cracking her cheeks and tears playing in her eyes.

           “Sorry … _uh,_ _sorry_! I just … oh my fucking god! Cockles _is_ real!”

           Jensen hears Misha choke on words, and the lump in his own throat seems to be trapping anything _he_ could say as well. They watch the young woman bounce on her heels, turning bright red the more they stare. She finally loses her will to remain still, taking off down the narrow path that leads to mouth of the park. They hear her excited yips echo through the trees, and watch the faint glow of her cell phone as it lifts to snap one, quick picture. In another moment, between the whistles of the wind and the pounding of their hearts, they wince with the ear piercing sound of the girl’s voice just before the distance eats it away.

           “Fucking Cockles is _real_!”

***

           He avoids his phone. He avoids the computer—the television and even the radio, even though he only ever listens to classic rock stations and they rarely delve into Hollywood trash. He tells Danneel to do the same. This is going to blow up soon and he just really can’t handle it right now.

           “Babe, it’s not going to be that bad.”

           “A fangirl! Of all the _damn_ people who could have been in _that_ park on _that_ night, it had to be a god damn fangirl!”

           “Yes, it was one hell of a coincidence, Jen—but, it’s nothing you could have helped and what’s done is done.”

           Jensen stops pacing the living room, noticing how his legs feel strange now, since he’s been pacing for the better part of an hour. He turns to his wife who’s currently bouncing a smiling JJ on her hip. “ _What’s done is done? Really?_ It’s not like I just let out a spoiler about the show, Dani! This could overturn our lives!”

           His wife looks up from their daughter and purses her lips. “ _Really_? Aren’t we being a little dramatic now?”

           “ _No_!” Jensen grumbles, trying not to sound too angry so he doesn’t upset JJ. His daughter still startles with the depth of his voice and he quickly stitches on a smile and walks over to take her from his wife’s arms. Jensen hugs her tight as he waits for Danneel’s inevitable lecture.

           “I really don’t know what you’re so worried about, Jensen. It was _one_ girl and one, probably _blurry_ picture … people might not even believe her for starters, and so what if they do? It’s a new era. We got Ellen and we got Neil Patrick Harris and Matt Bomer. People _love_ this sort of thing.”

           Jensen inhales deeply, bouncing JJ up and down while tickling her sides, and relaxing with the cooing giggle that sputters from her chubby cheeks. “Those are all actors who are in committed, _monogamous_ relationships. As far as the public will be concerned, Mish and I are stepping out on you guys.”

           “ _Oh please._ Vicki wrote a freaking book on _threesomes_ , and everyone _adores_ her for it—and that’s _with_ knowing that Misha has been with other people as well! So, don’t you go roping them into your panic over _us_.”

           Jensen growls low, flaring his nostrils and bending down to place JJ on the floor. She immediately waddles over to climb onto the couch where several of her books are laying. She situates herself between the pillows and starts looking over an Elmo book, as if it’s the New York Times. Jensen softens with the sight.

           “Jen … couples in the public eye have had open relationships for _years_. _Yes_ … usually, that meant the husband was with other _women_ , but I don’t think the fact that Misha is a man will make too much difference at this point. People _will_ talk—some may even get mean, but that comes with doing what we do. They’re already mean for other reasons—so now they may just _switch_ reasons.” She walks over and touches her husband’s arms, eventually pulling them off his chest so she can close herself inside his hold. He nuzzles his nose into her hair and breathes her in, relaxing with all the familiar hints that make her _home_. She leaves a small kiss on his shoulder before pulling away a little to look him once more in the eyes. “Besides, in the grand scheme of things, _our_ situation is better than most—more _committed_.”

           Jensen tilts his head in question.

           “I mean, it’s not like you’re just going out and banging every extra that comes on set. You and Misha have been together practically as long as _you_ _and I_ have. So _really_ , it’s just _him_ and it’s just _me_. And it’s just _you_ and it’s just _Vicki_ for him. We are all pretty exclusive—just with a couple of additions.”

           Jensen huffs indignantly. “Is that what you’re going to tell all the reporters when they come flocking around you?”

           “If I _have to_ , yes. They can try to make me out to be the poor, jilted wife all they want—but I will correct them _every_ step of the way. And _you know_ Vicki will have a _hell of a lot_ of fun doing the same.”

           His head rolls back with the spontaneous laugh. “ _Oh_ , I feel bad for the poor paparazzo that tries to corner her!”

           Danneel dances up to her toes and gives him a sweet, little kiss that she knows will make him melt— _it always does._ “Now, _please_ … try not to worry until you _actually_ have something to worry about. Personally, I think this is all going to be fine.”

           “Fine, fine!” JJ mimics, laughing while still looking at her book.

           Danneel smiles. “ _See_ , we all agree. It’s going to be _fine_.”

***

           The long way to set doesn’t seem as long as usual, and he curses every green light he hits. The front gate appears all too quickly and he has no other choice then to go in. _This is going to suck_. It’s been a week since they were spotted in the park, and so far, the shit hasn’t quite hit the fan—but he knows it’s coming. When he finally _did_ look at his cell last week, he only had a couple calls from his manager and a few million messages on his twitter—all of which, he ignored. Jared had texted a couple times, mainly just asking if he was okay and Misha called once. His voicemail was short, but reassuring—telling Jensen to try and relax, and he even said if things did get really bad, he can say he forced himself on him. Jensen smiles, thinking about how that would go down … _little  ol’ Misha,_ saying he practically molested his co-star. _Yeah_ , _no one_ would believe that.

           Jensen drives through the gates and pulls up to the main stage, parking where he normally does, stepping out how he normally would—pretending that everything is totally _normal;_ because, what else can he do? Nothing has changed, nothing _needs_ to change; but the warehouse looks ominous as he approaches it. He can hear the crews’ laughter inside and the faint sound of Jared—always a bit louder than the rest. It relaxes him and he thinks, maybe if _he_ doesn’t bring it up—no one else will.

          He walks through the door and a few heads turn to look at him, but they only nod and smile before turning back to their work. Jensen moves further inside until the hall of scaffolding opens up to main stage where the lights are currently being adjusted. Jared is standing off to the side, laughing with the prop manager and Clif. They don’t notice him walking up until he’s right next to them.

           “Hey, guys” he chirps, and Jared turns to look him over, his smile widening until his head is almost breaking in two.

           “Hey, buddy!” Jared walks around Clif to wrap Jensen in a giant hug, as if he hasn’t seen him in years.

           “ _Woah_ , okay … loosen it up, I gotta breathe!” Jensen croaks, flailing in the man’s gorilla-hold.

           Jared just laughs, finally letting him go and giving him a loving clap on the shoulder.

           “So, what are we setting up for—”

           “Oh good, you’re here!” Misha’s voice interrupts his thoughts and Jensen instantly blanks with the feeling of the man’s hand grasping his arm.

           He turns, looking into a set of cobalt, hope-filled eyes and he feels all the blood rush from his face.

           Misha pauses, worried with the expression he sees wrecking Jensen’s usually collected features. “Are you alright?”

           “He’s _fine_!” Jared laughs. “He’s just so happy to see you! _Because_ …” Jared grabs Misha’s hand off Jensen’s arm and cups it in his own, traveling his other to the small of Misha’s back and pulling him into a dancing spin. “ _When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, That's amore! When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine, That's amore!_ ”

           Misha fights against the moose’s hold but he can’t break free and Jared is practically carrying him across the stage floor, dancing to and fro as he hums the next few lines of the song.

           “ _Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling, And you'll sing "Vita bella!” Hearts will play, tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay_ , _Like a GAY tarantella!”_

           Misha fights harder, growling at Jared to let him go, but the man doesn’t listen as he continues to hum and grin, being fueled by the hysterical laughter of the crew. “How the fuck do you even know all the words to this song?” Misha yells, stomping on Jared’s enormous feet.

           The shaggy, gleeful head finally stops a moment to look down at the man in his arms—offense playing on his lips. “Misha! _I’m hurt,_ you should know I’m a romantic at my roots!” He replaces his grin once more and grips tighter onto his blue eyed co-star, leaning him back for a dramatic dip _. “When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool, That's amore!”_

           “You are the worst!” Misha spits, finally giving up and waiting for Jared to pull him upright again. He doesn’t—instead, he lowers Misha a little more before letting him plop onto the cement with a _thud._

“Maybe, but you love me anyway!” Jared laughs, reaching down again to help Misha to his feet.

           The generous hand is quickly swatted away as the grounded man scrambles upright on his own. “That can be _easily_ debated!”

           “Now you’re just being _mean_ …” Jared turns to their other friend, hoping to find a little solidarity. “You hearing this, Shackles? Your boyfriend is saying he doesn’t love me!”

           Jensen is still pale, gawking at his two best friends as both their sights fall on him.

           “ _Shit_ …” Misha mutters, glancing back to Jared, “You freaked him out.”

           “What? _No_ …” Jared whispers, flicking his eyes between Misha and the petrified man in front of them. “ _Oh_ …” The reality dawns on him. “ _Uh_ , guys … we’re gonna take five!” Jared announces before tapping Misha with the back of his hand and gesturing his head in Jensen’s direction. “Let’s get him back to his trailer.”

           Misha nods and soon, they both have an arm wrapped around Jensen’s shoulder, leading him out of the main stage and towards the row of trailers at the back of the lot. They trade worried looks as their friend’s green eyes stay focused on some nameless spot in the distance. They finally approach Jensen’s trailer and with some uncoordinated maneuvering, the three of them file inside. Once there, they sit their friend down—Misha runs off to get him some water and Jared pulls a chair just in front of him to keep his attention.

           “Jensen, _man_ … I’m really sorry. I was just goofing around. I didn’t think it’d be that big of a deal.” He pushes one hand across his heart and the other in the air beside his head, “ _Honest to God,_ I thought you would be relieved that you guys didn’t have to hide it anymore.” Jared pauses, but Jensen just keeps looking over his shoulder, not saying a word. “Come on, man. You’re scaring me … s _ay something_.”

           Jensen takes a deep breath, finally looking over to meet his friend’s eyes. “If I say something, you might not like what ends up coming out!” he growls, pushing himself out of the chair he was placed in and stomping towards the other end of the trailer. “I seriously don’t get why I’m the _only one_ freaking out about this! _Why?_ Please tell me!”

           The moose looks helplessly towards Misha, shrugging because he has only _just_ come into all this and he has a feeling, this has been an ongoing concern.

           Misha sighs and walks past him to stand in front of Jensen, placing his hands on his friend’s arms and rubbing down them softly. “You’re the only one freaking out about this because, so far … _you’re_ the only one who wants to.” He’s met with a furious glare. “Get mad all you want, Jen … but _it’s true._ I am honestly surprised with how cool everyone has been … and that’s coming from me!”

           Jared gets up and walks over to where they are standing, sitting himself down on the edge of the couch-back. “It’s true, man. All I’ve seen on twitter is mostly positive—I mean, no more hate than usual. And the people I know who are on Tumblr say it’s the same there. All the crew seems cool too—not really _surprised_ , I guess. They all sort of expected it after a while.” He smiles softly and looks down at his feet, peeking back up at Jensen from beneath his wrinkled brow. “You two haven’t really been all that _subtle_ in recent years.”

           He gulps down the lump in his throat and then looks between Misha and Jared, searching their faces for the tell that would prove that they’re lying, but he can’t find it. “What … what about reporters?”

           Misha laughs. “Vicki was actually stopped by one at Trader Joe’s, and you know what he asked her?”

           Jensen shakes his head.

           Misha smiles, big and gummy, making Jensen’s lips twitch by default. “He asked her if we were going to be in her next book.”

           “Oh …”

           “Yeah” Misha offers, leaning over to kiss Jensen’s cheek.

           He closes his eyes and pushes into the touch, opening them a few moments after Misha pulls away. “What did she tell him?”

           The wicked humor bubbles in Misha’s belly and he questions a moment if _now_ is really the time, but he knows he can’t lie to Jensen. “She simply said: Well, there’s a reason the next one’s title is _The Foursome Handbook.”_

           Jensen groans and tilts his head back, rubbing his hands over his face. “She didn’t!”

           “You know Vicki, she loves to fuck with people like that … so, _yes_ … I’m afraid she did. But that was a week ago and I have _yet_ to hear anything more about it. _Honestly_ , Jen … I don’t think this is going to turn into anything huge.”

           “Misha’s right. People have been really supportive, and _lord knows_ a good portion of the fans are fucking _overjoyed_. I think they’re expecting the release of your guys’ sex tape pretty soon.”

           Jensen shoots fire and fury at his friend, but Jared only raises his hands up, eventually lifting himself upright and walking back toward the kitchenette to grab a drink. In another moment, he returns with three beers and hands two off to both of his friends. Jensen takes one reluctantly—quickly pulling off the cap and downing half the bottle in a few gulps.

           “Come on, man. Let’s all sit down and talk this through. You’ll feel better” Jared whispers, clinking the neck of his bottle against Jensen’s.

           They all move around to the small couch and the two arm chairs that sit in the center of large trailer. Misha slides in close to Jensen on the sofa, wrapping his arm around his shoulders as they face Jared and nurse their beers. It is a common arrangement for them—one that felt strange several years ago, because even though Jared had always known about Jensen and his attraction to men, it was another thing _displaying_ it in front of him. But Jared never for one second made it awkward for him. And soon, it was normal for the three guys to meet back in one of their trailers and get fairly drunk after the filming was done—Misha and Jensen, tangled together in some way, and Jared, on his phone playing a game and throwing wadded bits of paper at them until _someone_ finally got annoyed and decided to wrestle. Usually it would be Misha first, and then Misha would be the first to get hurt. Then Jensen would tag in and Jared would always take it a little easier on him—because that is _his_ _brother_ , and ever since the first day they met, he felt he had to protect him. Misha on the other hand— _well_ , he is his favorite chew toy. He is what Jared loves to beat up most … solely because he does love him so dearly. It’s one of the many reasons he can never _really_ explain their dynamic to anyone, but he knows that it works and he knows they all love every moment of it.

           Another round of beers get put away before they all are feeling more relaxed and less consumed in the worries outside, or the worries inside these insulated, tin walls.

           “So, do you really think this is all going to blow over?” Jensen asks before trying to suck the last few drops from the neck of his bottle.

           “I think it already has,” Misha says, tucking his head into the curve of Jensen’s neck.

           “Yeah, man. I really don’t think people care and like I said before—it’s not really coming as that much of a shock.”

           Jensen sighs and sinks deeper into the couch, glancing up at the clock, silently noting that they all really should be getting back to set. “ _Okay_ … I hope you guys are right.”

           “Aren’t we always?” Misha chuckles.

           “Not even slightly.”

           Jared scoffs and gets up to collect everyone’s empty bottles, quickly turning around to put them in the recycling in the kitchen. “Well, no matter what happens, _if_ anything happens, you both know that I’m here for you. I’m here for you guys … and Vicki and Dani and the kids—both Gen and I are here, so _whatever_ you need … but I doubt you’re going to _need_ anything.”

           “Thank you, Jared” Misha says, leaning up to shake the man’s hand as he comes back to stand in front of them. He turns back to Jensen after another moment, waiting for the man to focus on him. “See, Jen … _this_ is all you need to think about _, your friendships_. That’s all that matters. That’s what counts in the end. _That’s_ what will get you through _everything_.”

           Jared quickly bends down, placing a hand on both of their shoulders, nodding—his expression serious. “That’s _amore_ ”

***

          They finish for the day and Jared had already left to catch a flight back home. Tom had apparently cracked his head open at the park and needed several stitches. He was fine, but everyone understood when the worried dad said he wanted to get back home to check on him. The crew called a quick meeting to see how they’d rearrange the filming to make up time while he was gone. Jensen and Misha joined in, even though they weren’t really needed—they both always enjoyed knowing the finer details of production. After each had their turns at directing, they became kind of addicted to watching all the puzzle pieces of the episodes come together. So Misha, Jensen and about thirty other crew members filed into the large conference room that sat just off the side of the editing trailers. Jensen sat in a one of the dozen chairs that were set up, while Misha joined a handful of others in standing in the back. They all chattered for a few moments while they waited for Robbie and Steve to come in and talk about the new arrangement. Robbie normally wasn’t around during the takes, but _this_ episode was pivotal to the arc and everyone knows just how dedicated the man is to his work—so he wanted to see it in motion. The room quiets when the two men saunter in.

          “Okay, so we all heard Jared had to catch a flight home for a little family emergency—Tom is _fine_ , just some stitches. Boys will be boys after all.” Steve begins and a collective chuckle sputters throughout the room.

          “And Jared’s boys will be _Jared_!” someone calls out, and the laughter that follows is long and hearty, mostly filled by Jensen’s barks and claps—knowing that no truer words have ever been spoken.

          “God help us all!” Robin shouts, lost in the crowd of tall men surrounding her.

          Jensen doubles over again, loving this crew more with every second that passes and feeling a little guilty that he ever expected them to be weird about all this. They are his _family_. It could _never_ be weird with them.

          “Alright, alright, you guys. _Simmer down_. We need to figure out how we’re going to work around his absence. So, I was thinking we’d do the barn scene first since he’s not in it. Now, can anyone tell me how hard it will be to move the permit dates up by a few days?”

          The discussion continues for the better part of an hour and Jensen is starting to feel his eyes sag. He normally doesn’t drink anything before a shift and _this_ is the reason why. He could pass out in this chair _right now_ , and he would too, if it isn’t for Misha seeing him and coming over to tap him on the shoulder.

          “Jen, you want to head back? We don’t have to be here” Misha whispers.

          Jensen nods and starts to pull himself up from the chair. He stands a moment, waiting for a pause in the conversation. “Alright guys, well if you don’t need us for anything, then we’re gonna go” he announces once the room gets remotely quiet, already walking towards the door—Misha quick in tow.

          “Oh, _actually_ … guys, can you hold up a second?” Robbie’s voice sings out from the front and Jensen stops, causing Misha nearly to run into his back.

          “What’s up?”

          “Well …” Robbie looks around the room, his face starting to slack a bit. “ _Actually_ , maybe we should discuss this all in private. Now is probably not the best time.”

          Jensen holds back a groan— _he’s tired_ and he doesn’t want to lose sleep worrying over what Robbie wanted to say. “ _Nah_ , man. It’s fine. What is it? Give me the clif-notes.”

          The man moves uncomfortably in his seat as he feels all the eyes in the room fall on him. “Well, Jeremy and I were just talking about the new developments between …you and _um_ , well … _you know,_ the _both of you_.”

          It takes Jensen a minute before he wakes up to what is now, _really_ being discussed— _right here_ , out in the open, in front of everyone … and _he_ just _asked_ for it.

          “Well, we were wondering if you two would be open to a discussion on how it _might_ get used in future scripts … if you’re comfortable with that, that is. _If not_ —we can just move forward as we were originally planning.”

          Jensen feels Misha touch his back a moment—light and quick, but it is enough to reassure him that he’s here with him and it’s still okay. “ _Uh_ … well, I _uh_ …”

          “I think he will need time to think about it” Misha jumps in and Jensen softens as his jumbled words all slip away.

          “Well, we need _your_ input as well, Misha. This obviously _does_ involve you too. If we were to approach the _Destiel_ storyline, we would obviously need the ‘-stiel’ part.” A light chuckle makes another round and Misha glances about the faces that are turned towards him. The idea has never bugged him like it has Jensen. He never thought it would make any real difference in his personal life—and he strongly believes that it would do a _world_ of good for the show and its connection with the fans. But he’s not sure if he should reiterate those feelings _now_ —not while Jensen is still so tense about everything. He looks back to his friend beside him, waiting for the green eyes to acknowledge his own. When they do, he smiles and Jensen smiles back—easier than he had all day.

          “My position on it is the same as it’s always been. If everyone can agree on going in that direction, I am fine with it. We’re _actors_ … this is what we do.” Misha finishes but he keeps his eyes trained on Jensen, nodding in comfort and hoping he can urge the man to feel the same.

          “ _Yeah_ …” Jensen finally croaks. “It’s what we do.”

          “Alright, well—if you both open to the discussion, then I’ll call Jeremy and we will set up an official meeting to see if it’s something we all want to pursue.”

          Jensen nods nervously, not sure of what else to say and feeling too tired to try and think about it. He turns once more to head for the door, hoping he can finally make his escape.

          “Oh, and guys?” Robbie yelps, stopping them both just before they’re out of the room.

          Misha and Jensen turn, eyebrows raised and skin itching with _what else_ could possibly get brought up in the middle of this meeting.

          “I think I speak for all of us when I say, we’re happy for you … if you guys are good, we’re all _truly_ happy.”

          Hands and well wishes shoot out from every corner, patting their backs and hugging their ears. They look at each other, smiling wide before turning to the groups gathering at their sides to offer thanks and appreciation for the acceptance. It’s another fifteen minutes before they finally make it out of the room— since each had to give little insights on _when_ this all started and how their wives handle everything; but they left feeling more collected than when that had first arrived. They walk quietly back to their trailers, both exhausted but content, breathing easily through the calm, Vancouver air. Jensen reaches out, lacing his fingers with Misha’s, and for the first time, he doesn’t care at all if they’re seen.

***

           “Yours or mine?”

           “Your’s. There’s some old hummus in my fridge, and it’s stinking up my whole trailer” Misha says, looking at the long bus with a grimace.

           “ _Gross_ —why didn’t you throw it away?”

           “I haven’t been here in three weeks, and I haven’t had a chance to yet … _sue me_.” He tries to make a face at Jensen but his mouth stretches in a yawn instead.

           “ _Come on_ , I’ll sue you tomorrow, let’s just go to bed.” Jensen tugs at Misha’s hand, leading him up the short steps and into his trailer.

          Once inside, Misha pulls away to take off his shirt. He wants to hurry up and go to sleep. This day has been exhausting in _every_ way imaginable, and crawling into bed and savoring the sandalwood scents that always coat Jensen’s sheets will be the perfect remedy. It’s so much more pleasant than the diaper, urine and sour milk smells he gets at home. Misha starts to make his way towards the bathroom to brush his teeth, but a hand is soon wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the entryway of the trailer. “What are you doing? Jen, _I’m tired_ ” Misha begins to whine, but stops as soon as the man’s arms wrap around him. Jensen’s head nestles against his shoulder—and he tightens his hold as soon as his lips meet Misha’s skin. Misha almost asks if he’s okay, but Jensen falls into him further, causing him to curl his arms beneath the man just to hold him steady. Calm, wanting hands travel up Misha’s neck to the back of his head—tangling in his hair. Jensen lifts his head up slightly, until one freckled cheek brushes against the dark lines of another.

          With eyes closed and deep breaths, Jensen pulls Misha in harder, latching on to the feeling of the solid being that’s beneath his touch. _He’s real, he’s mine._ “We’re okay, Mish” Jensen whispers, almost in disbelief. He keeps himself blinded to the world surrounding them, but that doesn’t mean he’s not still focused on every inch of his friend’s face.

          Misha smiles, closing his eyes as well and inhaling everything this is and everything it’s proving to be. “Yeah, Jen. We’re okay.”

***

           It starts on the corner of 56th and Mahlin dr.

           “Oh my God! _Jensen_! You’re _Jensen Ackles_!”

           Jensen turns around to look at the young woman—probably mid-thirties, who’s currently clutching her purse to her chest like he’s going to steal it from her. He laughs and rubs the back of his neck, shyly. “ _Uh_ , yeah … you caught me.” A quick glance gets tossed back to Danneel, who can only shrug and continue pushing JJ’s stroller down the street towards the coffee shop they were headed to. _Great, abandon me why don’t you?_

           “Oh my god, is that Danneel?” the woman asks hopefully.

           Jensen looks back again as his wife starts across the street. “ _Um_ , yup. That’s her.”

           “So, it’s true … you two are still together?”

           He whips his head back so hard, he hears his neck crack. “Yeah, _of course_ we are. Why wouldn’t we be?” His voice is low and agitated, and he probably channeled a bit more of _Dean_ than was necessary.

           The woman looks scared—she clutches her purse tighter. “I’m— _I’m sorry_. I shouldn’t be sticking my nose in your business. I’ll leave you alone.” She turns to walk away but Jensen is already reaching out to stop her.

           “Hey, hey, hey … _I’m_ sorry. I didn’t mean … I just need coffee, forgive me?” he says, flicking his head back to the coffee shop across the street. He raises his eyebrows and gives the woman his best puppy dog face. _After all,_ she didn’t really step over a line, and Jensen knows he’s just been extra sensitive lately. She didn’t deserve him dosing her with his shit.

           The young woman turns beat red at the sight of him, batting his impossibly long lashes at her. “Of course … I—I am sorry though.” She finally loosens her death grip on her purse and lowers her arms a little, feeling better the more Jensen leans attentively into her space. “Just … ever since everything about you and Misha came out, some people have been saying that you and Danneel aren’t _really_ together—that it’s an act or something.”

           He scoffs and rolls his eyes, trying to stay calm, but the idea that people coming up with such crap aggravates him to no end. He thrusts his hands into the pockets of his jeans and fingers the change inside one and his phone in the other. He gets even _more_ aggravated— _he_ _hates_ _change_. “Well, my wife and I are fine. Always have been, _always_ will be.”

           The woman smiles. “I’m _so_ happy to hear that. Not many people can be as comfortable as you guys are with that type relationship, and I understand how hard it is to be open about it.” She glances away a moment, looking back to him from the corner of her eye. “My boyfriend and I have a _unique_ understanding ourselves, and … it’s hard trying to explain it to anyone. They think we’re weird.” She finally drops her arms completely, standing taller and raising her chin to look Jensen directly in the eye. “ _Thank you_. It’s really nice to see someone I already look up to, make something like _this_ work. It gives me hope.”

           Jensen looks around himself, as if this woman could be talking to someone other than him. He finally settles his sights back onto her curly head. “Oh … _uh_ , you’re welcome?” he questions, scrunching up his face.

           A gentle giggle curls her lips. “I’m _serious_. It really is a comfort.”

           He can’t say another word before her arms are thrown around him, squeezing him in a hug that is much stronger than he would have expected for someone her size. She pulls away after another moment, asking him if they can take a picture together. He nods genuinely and wraps a loving arm around her shoulder as she raises up her phone. A few more minutes pass and the woman is practically skipping up the opposite end of the street and Jensen finally continues on his way to catch up with Danneel. His head is still swimming with the repeated _thanks_ he wasn’t expecting and the proud look he saw in the woman’s eye. The thoughts push him forward, making his grin wide and his step light, and his belly warm and contented; and he didn’t need _one_ drop of coffee to make it so.

***

           It continues when he finally decides to brave Twitter.

            _Just a generic tweet_ he thinks, _nothing to draw much attention_ ; but he knows that’s bullshit because at this point, _anything_ he says will draw attention. This is his first tweet since everything came out and that’s going to get analyzed and picked apart like the fandom is filled with scientists.

           He thinks a moment, finally settling on something short and sweet.

           “Long day. Good wine. Great tunes.”

He attaches a picture of himself, wearing a Brian Buckley shirt and holding a glass of red while sitting in his trailer. _That shouldn’t be too bad_.  A silent prayer is let out anyway before he hits _send_. He waits for his phone to notify him that the message actually took. Within seconds, the screen starts flashing with favorites, retweets and replies. He questions whether he should even bother looking at any of them, but after a few more sips of wine, his curiosity wins him over.

           “What the fuck is with all this _dad-shit_?” he grumbles, sliding his thumb across the glass to power through the responses. A couple of longer messages catch his eye. “ _Wow_ —you need Jesus” he mutters after reading an especially raunchy note. Another is pretty hateful, talking about how he should give up acting because he sucks. “And a sincere _fuck you,_ too.”

           He almost gives up when a lengthy tweet pulls up on the screen. Jensen scrolls his eyes over the letters, finding that he’s smiling once he’s done reading it. He goes back over the response again, grinning wider once he confirms that it _did_ in fact say what he thought it said.

“Thank u. I’m bi & I never thought that any1 could really love some1 like me. You prove that's not true & it makes me happy with who I am.”

           He’s gotten used to it when people relate him with Dean, saying his character’s determination throughout his struggles have helped them get through their own. He has heard so many heartbreaking and heartwarming stories—and although he appreciates them all, and is _always_ amazed that his acting could elicit such a response, the thanks somehow don’t feel like they solely belong to him. They also belong to _Dean_ , and the writers, and the directors, and Jared, and Sam, and Misha, and Cas – they _all_ make him who he is on the show. Yet, _this_ , this is _all Jensen_. Someone is pointing to who he is at the core and saying that _that_ , and that alone makes them content with who they are. Jensen reads the message a third time, quickly taking a screen shot of it, knowing that there will be points where he needs to look back on the words and remember _just_ what they’re saying. He finishes his glass of wine and sets his phone down, wanting to end this little venture on a positive note—since it might be one of the few he actually gets.

***

           His mind starts to change about it all when Misha shows up at his trailer.

           It’s been five weeks since they were spotted in the park and he has to admit, not much has changed— _then again_ , the pessimist in him reminds that he hasn’t had to be in the spotlight that much. Filming was light because of the holidays, and they haven’t had to do a convention since everything went down—but that was about to change. Things could still be bad. His life could still get overturned by all this.

           Misha taps on the door of Jensen’s trailer, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he eagerly awaits his friend to open it up. When he finally does, Misha wastes no time pushing inside.

           “ _Jeez_ , come on in!” Jensen grumbles, stumbling back to make room for the man.

           Misha ignores him, getting safely inside before turning around and shaking a stack of envelopes in Jensen’s face. “Look at all these, it’s kind of crazy!”

           “What are they?” Jensen asks, feeling fairly uninterested in the crumpled paper in his friend’s hand.

           “It’s fan mail!”

           “ _Okay_ …” Jensen walks over to his fridge and pulls out a couple of beers, quickly coming back and reaching out to hand one to Misha, but the man refuses.

           “No, you don’t get it … it’s _our_ fan mail. Like—people who are fans of _us_!”

           “We have a lot of fans, Mish. It’s why the show is still running” Jensen mumbles, not looking at the intense blues as he pops the lid off his beer.

           “Oh my god—you’re so dense sometimes! _No_ … these aren’t fans of the show or us as actors, they are fans of _our relationship_ , of _us_ … of us and our wives, and how we live.”

           Jensen stops mid gulp, narrowing his eyes as Misha nods to confirm it all. Another swallow frees up his throat to talk. “ _What_?”

           “Yeah, I know … _weird_ right?” He says the words but Misha can’t help the airy feeling in his chest, knowing that it’s not weird at all—it’s _wonderful_.

           “What do they say?” Jensen asks after another moment, trying to count how many envelopes Misha is holding. It looks to be close to fifty.

           “I haven’t gone through them all yet, but these are the ones dated after our little secret was spilt, and in the dozen I _have_ read, people are saying really nice things.”

           Jensen rolls his eyes before marching over and grabbing a few of the letters. “Yeah, yeah—nice things like _what?_ ”

           Misha practically snorts, seeing right through Jensen’s aggravation— _the man is excited_. “Well— _this_ _one_ …” he reaches over and pulls out a letter covered in purple writing. “This one says how she’s been living in a polyamorous relationship for a few years now, and after hearing about us, she finally decided to tell her parents about it. It was tense at first I guess, but they all eventually came around and now, her and _both_ her girlfriend and boyfriend are going back to her house for Thanksgiving.”

           “Wow, that’s going to be awkward” Jensen huffs, looking at the letter with wide, worried eyes.

           “ _Maybe_ … maybe not. Our family get-togethers are never awkward.”

           A loud grunt of a laugh tumbles through Jensen’s body. “Are you kidding me? Do remember the first time _my_ parents joined in on everything? And I had to explain to them that I was dating you _and_ engaged to Dani?”

           Misha turns to eyeball him, knowing that this will _forever_ be a debated subject. “The only one who made that super awkward was _you_ , Jensen. In fact, that night preceded one of the times that we took a break. You were obviously not really ready to try and juggle so much—not while planning a wedding.”

           Jensen grabs some more of the letters before turning to stomp towards the couch. He doesn’t want to get into this argument again.

           Misha isn’t as reluctant. “Your dad, though … _was fine_. He wasn’t prancing around wrapped in a rainbow flag or anything, but he was perfectly pleasant, and didn’t say anything to imply otherwise.”

           “ _Exactly_ —he didn’t say _anything._ You don’t know what that means for him, he was probably pretty weirded out.”

           “Or, _you_ were, and you were just projecting it on him.” Misha walks over to join him on the leather cushions, knocking Jensen’s knee with his own. “Besides, I don’t know why you think he was so against it. He knew about you before then.”

           “Yeah, doesn’t mean it was his favorite thing.”

           “Maybe not, but it certainly doesn’t mean he was disappointed in you or anything.”

           Jensen sighs, glancing over at Misha as he leans in to ensure his point. “Yeah, yeah … _whatever_ … what do the other letters say?”

           A sorrowful breath fills him, but Misha knows when to stop; he packs away all his other arguments for a later date, returning to the task at hand. “Well … this one talks about how this person is really struggling with identity. So much so, they were planning on ending their life I guess.”

           “ _Woah_ —heavy shit.”

           Misha nods, reaching out to rub his hand along Jensen’s knee. “But they said that they saw the news about us and thought: _If old man Ackles can be comfortable with such a complicated life, so can I_.”

           “That’s not actually what it says!” Jensen spits, taking slight offense at the “old man” statement, even though he knows it’s true.

           A laugh is accompanied by Misha pointing out the line in the letter. “That’s _exactly_ what it says, right there … _see_?”

           Jensen stares at the words, continuing to read on. “Wow, they seem really sincere.”

           “So far—they _all_ do” Misha adds, taking back some of the unopened letters that Jensen is holding.

           “Why are people taking this so well? Why are they acting like this?” The question has been plaguing his mind ever since the meeting room. A part of him still wants to think that everyone might be lying—then, he can be prepared for the firestorm. Jensen continues flipping through the envelopes, knitting together his brows before finally turning to Misha for a better answer.

           “I told you, Jensen. Perspectives have changed a lot. Being _different_ is not so different anymore—and there are a lot of nice people who like to be reminded of that and … I guess you and are kind of like _big reminders.”_

           Jensen watches Misha’s eyes dance over his own, slowly falling down his nose until they rest on the ledge of his lips. He leans in and latches on for a kiss, keeping it short and soft but still full of everything that’s built up within their years together.

           The stack feels heavier in his hands and he starts to see each piece of paper with a face—a beating heart, a life that somehow has looked upon his own and gotten a little easier. His doubt begins to fade. “I think I like being a reminder” Jensen whispers, finally dropping his head onto Misha’s shoulder.

           “Yeah … _me too.”_

***

           “So we beefed up security at the entrances and, as you know … the photos with the both of you have been nixed.” Clif looks across the table and gestures between Jensen and Misha.

           Jared grunts, pulling the grizzled man’s attention over to him. “Is that all _still_ really necessary? We really haven’t seen any backlash since they came out.”

           “We just want to take _every_ precaution. Better safe than sorry.”

           Misha reaches under the table to squeeze Jensen’s thigh. “They all are going to be really upset when we don’t add a duo photo op” he whispers.

           Jensen nods, placing his hand on top of his friend’s. “ _Yeah_ , but—even if people are nice, they could still get overly crazy, and we don’t need the whole thing getting shut down because some _nutso_ fan demands that we fuck in the middle of the floor or something.”

           Misha chuckles and shrugs, leaning back in his seat while Clif goes over the rest of the new game plan.

           Within an hour, the Saturday festivities begin. Jared and Jensen head back up to Jensen’s room to relax since they really don’t have much to do until the concert in the evening. After some glasses and cheers are passed around, they both sit and turn on the television—watching some random show on HGTV that eventually becomes background noise as they start to talk.

           “So, are you two basically just _not_ going to have contact this whole weekend—I mean, other than what you just did?” Jared asks, shifting to get more comfortable in his chair.

           “That’s what they’re suggesting” Jensen offers, glancing at his tall friend for a moment, before looking back to his glass. “ _I get it._ I don’t want anyone to feel like they wasted their money because one person, or one group of people make things go sideways for everyone.”

           Jared nods and takes another sip of his drink, lifting his other hand to adjust the beanie on his head. “I get that, man— _I do_ ; but the fans have never really given us that much trouble before … nothing to make us close early or anything like that. Do you _really_ think they would go to all that trouble now?”

           Jensen looks up to the TV, watching some small woman take a sledge hammer to a wall. “Personally— _no_ , but I don’t really call the shots on this sort of thing. _You know that._ You don’t get much of a say either.”

           “Yeah, I know. I just think it’s a shame. It’s just sort of messing with the natural _flow_ that these things usually have. It feels stiffer now.”

           Jensen nods, finally letting out a big sigh. He gets where his friend is coming from and he can’t help but agree. With all this new yellow tape surrounding the weekend, they aren’t really free to have as much fun as they normally would. It _is_ a shame. “Again—what are you gonna do?”

           “Yeah … nothing, I guess.”

          Jared turns his focus back to the show but Jensen keeps his eyes on his glass. He thinks back to all his worries about this blowing up. These precautions are keeping those worries from coming true _. He knows that._ This convention is about the show, after all—not him and Misha. It’s not about their relationship and even though numerous tweets and a stack of fan letters prove that _many_ people are okay with it, there are still probably _plenty_ of fans downstairs right now who would be pretty upset if that sort of thing got rubbed in their faces. He swivels around the ice in the remaining whiskey in his tumbler, huffing and reassuring himself that this is all for the best. The extra security measures are _good_. It’s just what they need to keep things running smoothly. He takes another long, slow drink—unsure however, why he still feels like it’s all so _wrong_.

***

           “What’s my favorite prank? Well, considering most of them are being pulled on _me_ — _none_ of them are my favorite. They are all, in fact—rather _scarring_ and I am hurt that you would be so sadistic as to try and make me choose a favorite between all the evil I have to endure.”       The crowd laughs but Misha maintains his straight face. It’s about the only time he can keep one going—because fans are much easier to fuck with then Jensen or Jared. “Thank you” he finally mumbles as the laughter dies down. The young girl blushes and thanks him back before walking away from the podium. He turns to the other side of the stage, watching as another young girl, dressed head to toe as _Cas_ —including a dark, shaggy wig, walks up and leans down to the mic.

           “Hi” she squeaks.

           “Hello, very high-pitched Cas.” He watches as she covers her face with her hands and turns away from him—hunching over like she’s about to cry. “Oh, _no, no_ … don’t be scared. I’m just _deep-voice_ Cas. I’m not scary, _God Cas_ or _Leviathan Cas._ No need to hide from me!”

           The girl cowers more as the rest of the room laughs and sends out a unanimous “aw” in her favor. She eventually turns back around to face the mic once more.

           “What’s your question, sweetheart?” Misha asks, knowing the girl can’t take much more if his dry humor.

           “ _Um_ …”

           But he can’t help himself. “That is a very _deep_ question, and one I have often pondered myself. I feel that Plato and Socrates have dealt with this same, great quandary and—even though I don’t liken myself to either one of _them_ , I _do_ feel that I can add a new perspective that will allow for a better insight, overall.”

           “Oh, will ya just let the poor girl talk?”

           Misha freezes at the sound of the other voice booming through the speakers—his eyes bursting wide as he looks over the crowd.

           “Not everyone can tolerate your endless yammering as well as I can.”

           He turns on his heels to watch as Jensen pokes his head through the curtains. Misha lifts his mic to say something but quickly drops it again, mouthing a quiet “ _What are you doing?”_ which Jensen aptly ignores. They both stare at each other, waiting for the hysterical screams to die down. After another minute, they finally do.

           “I mean, she’s _obviously_ shy and it probably took _a lot_ of guts for her to come up here and face you; but she did it because she probably wanted to prove something to herself, and now you’re just going to _yap_ and _yap_ and make her regret the whole thing!”  
           Misha feels a grin overtake his face—knowing that Jensen isn’t just talking about the girl. “You’re right … I really do have a problem with that sort of thing, don’t I?”

           Jensen smiles, feeling the rest of the room fade out as Misha holds him close in his gaze. “Well, I could lie and say you didn’t, but _then again_ – I’ve never been much of a liar.”

           “Except all the times you said there was nothing going on between you two!” a voice rings out from the crowd and the room starts to quiet.

           Misha stills, looking across to Jensen, trying to keep his face light but knowing that the worry is starting to take over—he watches in amazement as Jensen holds it together.

           “ _Fair point._ I suppose I _did_ lie then, but can you blame me? How could I not stay quiet and keep what I have with this guy all to myself? I mean— _look_ at him!” Jensen walks closer and thrusts his hand out to outline the length of Misha’s body. The fans scream louder. “Can you blame me for being selfish? Who would want to share _this adorable face_ with _anyone?_ Especially since I already have to share it with Vicki!”

           The audience laughs and cheers—they hoot and holler, whistling and clapping like they were all just promised free cars. Both Misha and Jensen look around the room, a little amazed by the overwhelming response, and _enormously_ happy.

           “ _Kiss him!_ ” another voice calls out, sounding slightly unsure but the roar that follows the request is more certain than anything.

           Misha turns back to Jensen, finally losing all composure—face going slack as he thinks of _every_ possible worry that is probably swarming his friend’s mind. Jensen meets his eyes, his smile never faltering and his head still remaining high—even as he lifts the mic back up to his lips.

           “I thought you’d _never_ _ask_.”

**Author's Note:**

> For more Destiel and Cockles love, angst and feels - take a look at the rest of my Ao3!
> 
> Find me on Tumblr at: castiel-left-his-mark-on-me


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